"What now, Papa?"

"Just rest, Mariko."

Father and daughter were resting in a run down shack, surrounded by similarly dilapidated buildings. Though no one would ever know, they were in the very same building that Nana and Wanta had lived in once upon a time. Kakuzawa had left by himself when he'd heard that the roadblock to be a failure, fully intending to find at least one of his daughters dead on the ground, her guts spread out like a gruesome rorschach test. Instead, he'd arrived to find Mariko lying wounded amongst a sea of corpses. She was burned, bruised, and bloodied, but still conscious.

"Pa…pa…" she croaked out, and Kurama was reminded of the state that Nana had been in when he'd first discovered her after her own personal encounter with Alma, and she'd been wearing that exact same expression of agonized shame. He'd scooped her up in his arms and had walked away, not to the Institute, but somewhere remote, where he felt safe enough to look upon her as a daughter, rather than a test subject. Now he sat there in the rickety hut, cradling his daughter in his arms, wondering what he would do now, as well as how soon until he'd be forced back into another nightmare from Lucy and Alma, the two girls he was more and more certain would herald the apocalypse, ending mankind and all of their sins.

"Papa, are you okay?" Mariko asked meekly.

"I'm alright, Mariko," he looked down at her, drawn in by the innocence of her eyes, "How are you?"

"It hurts."

"I know Mariko, just be patient. We'll get you some help soon."

Mariko rested her head back down onto his lap, permitting Kurakama to continue thinking about his circumstances. It was wrong. It had all gone so wrong. Bando, Nana, Kakuzawa's private army, nothing had worked. They were'nt able to so much as faze Alma Wade. She'd even been able to grow wise to snipers, as several sharpshooters who'd been placed back at the cemetery had later been found burned to a crisp, their flesh grating onto the asphalt sidewalks. Kurama didn't like picturing it. He didn't like thinking about Alma's victories, or what she'd done to Nana.

It was supposed to be so simple. Neutralize Lucy and her enigmatic companion, and cover up the mess. But from the start Kurama knew this was a doomed voyage. Lucy might've been manageable, but Alma was a straight-up enigma, with a god-like level of destruction that may have surpassed even Lucy. Armacham had provided some much needed clarity on the psionic, but by that point their aid had been too little, too late. Now Kakuzawa was calling for another assault, and while the Chief had that same glimmer of mad ambition in his eyes, Kurama was well past the point of being overwhelmed. He wasn't even sure what he wanted at this point. He still desired Lucy's death, but now that was beginning to feel like less of a goal and more of a pipe dream. He looked down at his daughter, and casually brushed her dirt-streaked hair with his hand. He'd kept Mariko safe for the moment, but he couldn't stay here forever. Where would he go? What was possible?

Nana.

Later on, when the bullets would fly and the monsters would come out of the dark. He would wonder if that was his own mind stating the name of his lost daughter, and not some damaged girl with mental abilities beyond the scope of normal brains. It probably was, but he'd still have doubts. Regardless, as soon as that name came up in his mind, he couldn't let it be. What of Nana? Was she safe? She had been there at the massacre, but her body hadn't been found at the scene of the slaughter. Apparently, intel revealed that she'd been staying with Lucy and Alma, and the thought made his blood freeze. How had she ended up there? What had she been thinking? He knew she'd struggle to blend in, but didn't expect her to do something so stupid.

Looking up at the sky, he was surprised by how much time had passed. The sun had set, and now the sky twinkled with bright stars, a cheery setting that contradicted the blood-soaked drama unfolding on the ground. Glancing down, he found that Mariko had fallen asleep again. That was fine. He knew where he had to go next. He'd put Nana through so much already, so now it was his turn to stick his neck out for her.

He got up from his spot, and started walking, cradling the snoozing child in his arms.

"ATTENTION RESIDENTS OF MAPLE HOUSE."

It was hard to see where the army ended. Everywhere they looked they could see rows of soldiers, trucks, and strange machines that looked somewhat like tanks. They were all stationed outside the front gates of Maple House, blocking off any attempt at escape. The loud voice, sounding like an old man, was coming from the trucks, huge dark-colored humvees which shined their high beams at the mansion.

"ATTENTION RESIDENTS OF MAPLE HOUSE. WE HAVE COME FOR THE DICLONIUS. SEND OUT BOTH THE DICLONIUS AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED. REFUSE AND YOU WILL ALL BE KILLED."

The dread that Kouta felt was overwhelming. It eclipsed any horror he'd felt upon regaining his traumatic memory, because now everyone was going to die. Him, Yuka, and everyone else. Did he cause this? Did he bring them here? It was so foolish what was he thinking he knew they were wanted by some very powerful people and he was so so stupid for-

A large hand came up and struck Kouta across the face, not a hard blow, but the size of the mitt disoriented the young man, sending him down on one knee. He clutched his face and stared up at the sneering form of Bando, possessed by Paxton Fettel. It was him, Kouta, and Yuka in the upstairs hallway, the other denizens having gone to different parts of the house so as to not be a more grouped together target. Paxton's form didn't seem as…whole as it had once been. Red cracks filled with scarlet light were growing on his pale face, and the red haze surrounding him was stronger. Kouta was reminded of a pottery course he once took in high school, and the art teacher's warning when it came to solidifying the clay pieces in the microwave: Too much heat and the work will crack, break, and be ruined.

"Focus up, boy. A whole legion gathers at your doors, and you choose to break down now? You are unworthy of mother's fondness."

Kouta stood up on shaky legs, giving Fettel a sulky glare that did not phase the phantom in the slightest, "And what can we do to stop this? I've never seen so many people before!"

"They're no problem," dismissed Fettel, "Once the assault begins, this army of peons will be nothing more than a meager anthill beneath mother's magnifying glass. Did you not see what she did on the bridge?"

Kouta opened his mouth to retort but just as quickly closed it. Paxton was right. Alma could very well dispose of each and every soldier that was here, melting their flesh like ice cream in the hot summer sun…so why did he still feel so uneasy about all of this? He recalled how the last battle had gone, and felt a wave of nausea roll through him, followed by a sobering sense realization.

It was Yuka who vocalized these fears, "Th-there's going to be another big fight, isn't there?"

"Yes," smirked Fettel.

"A-and more people are going to die, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes."

That was it. It wasn't that he'd die, but that so many others would die, a supernatural slaughter the likes of which would dwarf all that had come before it. It was the sort of horror that one couldn't find in a nearby cinema, but in a museum about a devastating war, because it would be real, and it would feel all too real.

"There's nothing else to do," remarked Paxton. He casually glanced out the window, as if he were observing the weather rather than an army, "These maggots and their meager contraptions won't stand up to mother."

"SEND THEM OUT NOW." The loudspeaker, blaring loudly.

Paxton gave a dark little chuckle, "It seems they're growing impatient with us. Perhaps it is best we man the cannons, eh?"

"Stop it!" snapped Yuka, finally getting angry, "This isn't a game!"

"NOW, MAPLE HOUSE. WE'RE THROUGH MESSING AROUND."

"I'm well aware that this isn't a game, girl."

"Then quit treating it like one!"

"Everyone," Kouta quietly moaned, covering his ears with his hands, "Please shut up."

"YOU CAN'T STOP US."

"This farce shouldn't even be considered a game."

"But these are real people!"

"WE HAVE MORE THAN ENOUGH FIREPOWER TO DECIMATE THIS BUILDING."

"They're tin soldiers, and they'll melt like tin."

"How can you even joke about-"

"WE'LL DO WHATEVER WE HAVE-"

"Are you always so incessantly-"

"You make me-"

"WE'LL STOP AT NOTH-

"-inevitable-"

"-unbearable-"

"-FORCEFUL-"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Kouta. He grabbed a chair and threw it at the window. It exploded in a shower of glass and light, "SHUTUPSHUTUPSHU-"

His rant was abruptly cut off as a massive force shoved him to the side, forcing him to the ground. Less than a second later several high-caliber rounds shot through the space that Kouta's head had previously occupied, slamming into the wall, sending wood chips flying. Yuka shrieked, falling to the ground in absolute terror. Kouta looked up at Paxton, the man who'd just saved his life.

"Don't stray near the windows, boy!" he snarled, "You're giving them exactly what they want by losing your mind!"

Kouta felt himself shaking, but had no idea if it was from anger, fear, or simple stress. He said the only question in his mind at that moment, "What happens now?"

Paxton's smile was vicious and feral, "Now, my family does what it does best, and you enjoy the show."

The window immediately next to the front door shattered as a flash bang crashed through it. There was a bright burst of light as it detonated, and the main hall was briefly lit up like a bolt of lightning had gone off in the room. Less than a second later, the front door burst open, and several soldiers came marching in, guns out and senses alert. Flashlights mounted on their guns scanned the darkened room, looking for the slightest trace of an unnatural ambush.

One of the soldiers stepped on a floorboard, giving off a slightly audible creak. In the next instant, a burst of machine gunfire erupted from the wall, killing the hapless soldier as well as a few of his comrades. The remaining soldiers turned and poured their rounds into the plaster, hoping to land so much as a scratch on the shooter on the other side.

"Cease fire," ordered one of the men, and the shooting abruptly stopped. A few of the soldiers nearest to the other room's entryway went around to the other side of the room, weapons ready for some payback. The first soldier to cross into the room was tense, and may have been a bit too focused on finding his target to bother checking his surroundings. It would certainly explain how he failed to notice the tripwire until his foot snagged it.

*snikt*

BOOM!

Pieces of wood, plaster, and soldiers flew out in all directions, killing quite a few more soldiers than before. Those who were left were so dazed and rattled that by the time the Point Man stepped up and trained his gun, they only just began to notice him.

RATATATATATATATAT!

When dealing with a Diclonius, it was always important to bring heavy rounds, the sort that could easily punch through body armor. It was most effective in knocking back vectors. The soldiers at the bridge had loaded their own guns with just such rounds, and the Point Man had made sure to scrounge up plenty of ammo. In short, the kevlar vests of the intruders didn't stand a chance. Blood burst from them as they were all shot up, and soon there bodies joined their colleagues on the floor. The Point Man surveyed his handiwork, noting the scorch marks on the walls. It was quite impressive what a few simple ingredients, such as fertilizer and hydrogen peroxide, could accomplish. He jerked his head toward the other side of the room as he heard a large crash, followed by more yelling and gunfire.

Perhaps Nana was in need of some aid.

Nana had to stifle a shriek as the back door was suddenly kicked in, but remained in cover behind a sofa. She had been told, (or maybe the right word was instructed, since he couldn't speak,) to go by the back door and remain in hiding so as to take them by surprise. She didn't want to do this, she didn't want to kill, but she had no choice, now. She held her breath as she heard the heavy sound of jackboots hitting carpet, and saw the bright beams of flashlights dancing around the room. Voices were speaking, ones that she was too panicked to comprehend. She just waited until one of those lights pointed to her, and the loud voice cried out right near her.

"TARGET SPOTTED!"

Machine guns burst in front of her, and her vectors, which had been folded several times over her in an invisible dome, absorbed some of the impact, but not all of it. When their magazines ran dry, Nana gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and whipped her invisible limbs forward. It wasn't a very coordinated attack, and many of the limbs didn't manage to cut into areas of the flesh that were immediately fatal. The screaming made that painfully clear. Opening her eyes, Nana got out from beneath the table, looking around at the gore streaked floor, walls, and ceiling.

Is this what Lucy enjoys? How could anyone stomach this? she thought, feeling her stomach twist in knots. Her dread made her neglect the one soldier who'd survived her assault. He had lost both his legs and his intestines were out, yet still he managed to somehow shakily raise his gun and point it at the young girl in front of him. He made to squeeze the trigger, but someone else squeezed theirs first.

Nana winced at the sudden gunfire, then turned back to see that the Point Man had made his appearance with a bang, firing several bullets into the soldier she missed. He gave her a confident smile, and she returned the gesture, albeit a bit shakily.

"Th-thanks."

He nodded. You're welcome.

"Sir, squads Alpha and Bravo have gone dark."

"You mean dead."

…Yes sir, that."

Kakuzawa grinned. He had figured that it would be a fool's errand to send two squads into the house, but there was never any real harm in testing the waters, as they say. Besides, things were looking promising. He still had a whole army at his disposal, and something much greater in his right hand. He looked down at the cage that he'd cut off from the meddlesome Ms. Aristide, said to contain a creature that even Alma feared. Soon, his utopia would be realized, and he would be at the helm of a world belonging to a species far superior to humanity.

"Send in a few more squads," he voiced to his subordinate, a rather thin man with a heavy radio, "I want to see how far this little 'family' can hold out."

"Yes, sir."

The operator barked a few more commands into his radio, but Kakuzawa hardly noticed. He was staring out at the Maple House, already imagining what it'd look like as it burned to the ground. He'd put it all into this assault. Every soldier and piece of tech he could muster was set to storm this decrepit house, and as soon as he had his queen, he would have all of his pieces. He'd received several calls from Armacham since murdering Aristide, but had resolutely sent them to voicemail. By the time those imbeciles of the West could send someone else across the sea to get him, he'd already be way out of their reach. He was as thoroughly convinced of his grandeur as a mad dictator against the entire world. Diclonius would conquer the world, and he would lead them. Nothing could go wrong. And so, when he heard the sound of more screaming and gunfire over the soldiers' radios, he simply smiled confidently, taking absolutely no notice of the worried expressions of his subordinates a few feet from him.

"Send in some more, we'll wear them out."

"My word, they just keep coming," remarked Fettel as he sprayed down a few more soldiers with his machine gun. This latest suit of his was proving to be rather practical in combat for him. It was incredibly strong, even with the prosthetics, and its memories helped give him a strong familiarity with various combat drills and tactics, which was quite detrimental for his current predicament. And if there were too many soldiers for him to shoot up, a psionic blast could easily reduce a few of them into a crimson mist. One after another the soldiers poured through, and one after another Maple House began to fill with corpses. Their entangled bodies covered the floor, and they piled one on top of the other to the point that his brother was starting to use them as cover, crouching over the piles of twisted bloody limbs to fire precise rounds at any soldiers coming in through the windows and doors.

And they just. Kept. Coming.

One soldier was gunned down and another would take his place, almost as if they were waiting in a line to be executed. The thought struck Fettel as funny, and he found himself laughing amidst the spray of bullets and blood. This was his purpose, where his gifts truly shone. Armacham had wanted a soldier when they bred him, and they got it. He would make mother proud. Observing another closely knit squad of fools closing in, Paxton raised his hand…

…And noticed the red light leaking out of all the cracks on his forearm.

Huh.

It would appear that this vessel was at its final limits. A pity, but to be fair, it had lasted far longer than he'd initially expected. Oh, well. Concentrating, he dropped his scavenged rifle and charged toward the group of soldiers, who began to frantically open fire at the lumbering glowing giant coming their way with an expression of gleeful malice. Their bullets punched through the behemoth, but did nothing to stop his charge, save for opening up more holes for the blood red light to pour through. Then the giant screamed, an unholy cacophony of rage and destruction, before exploding into a violent bright flash. Waves of psionic energy sliced into the soldiers, atomizing them where they stood. As quick as it was brutal.

The next soldier to run in looked around in confusion. He'd seen the flash but had been just outside of its range. Now the bang was gone, and so were his comrades. What had happened? That was the last thought in his head that was his own, before a heatwave of malice overcame it. He staggered back with a yell as this force overcame his mind and body, filling him with that horrid light. He cried out, then abruptly stopped screaming as the redness finally reached his eyes. His pained expression quickly changed into a scornful one, and he turned to the latest batch of soldiers that had just entered the building.

"Sir, is everything alri-"

RATATATATATATATAT!

They all died with the same expression of dumb wonder, like cattle that just realised they were at the slaughterhouse, and it made Paxton's new mouth fill with laughter once more. This new toy would be fun.

Lucy stared down at the smoldering remains of the odd machine that had supposedly meant to be her undoing. It looked like some sort of pod with human limbs. No…not human, she realized, but Diclonius. They had started to cower the moment Lucy approached them with her vectors out and ready, and they fell just as easily as the rest of her adversaries. Easier, actually, since they didn't put up much fight. Alma meanwhile had already liquified the surrounding forces, and the two of them were now bearing down more armed men, when a loud voice blared out, "STAND DOWN!"

The soldiers complied with the order, though they didn't lower their weapons. Not surprising, considering the trauma they saw inflicted on their comrades. Not just here, either. A quick telepathic scan showed that all of the soldiers had stopped fighting, and were now dutifully awaiting their next order. Alma and Lucy looked around, and for a moment, the former was confused as to why she couldn't read the mind of the person who had just spoken. Then she noticed the speaker on a nearby overturned truck, and all doubt was gone.

"Hello Lucy, Ms. Wade, I'm so glad we have a chance to talk," the voice, rich with smug certainty, made Alma's thin fingers curl into knobbly fists, "I am Kakuzawa, and for most of my life, I have been preparing for this moment, one where Lucy could be made ruler of her kind, and Diclonius could claim the earth."

Alma glanced over at Lucy, who had developed a distant expression, pondering her very own potential.

"I'm sure my idiot son explained it all before you killed him, though I hold no grudge against that. He was a fool who nearly ruined everything, and I have come too far to be undone by such misfortunes. That said Ms. Wade, I've been surprised by your arrival, and amused by your interference."

Alma glared at the dented speaker dangling from the busted up truck, and considered melting it along with the men who'd commanded it. But Lucy's thoughts made it clear she wanted to hear what he wanted to say, so she relented. For now, at least.

"Lucy never said much about you or your abilities, so I was quite surprised to discover them for myself, as well as all the intel that Armacham so gladly shared. I'm sure you guessed they'd come for you sooner or later. In many ways, it's a convenience to have you as Lucy's friend rather than her enemy, as you might have been able to kill her before she could reach her true potential, but instead you ended up being her closest friend, tempting her into a selfish life away from her destiny. Did the two of you really think that you could find peace? That you could just waltz off into your very own happily ever after, thwarting the law, the corporation, and the Institute that broke you down? I will see you eliminated, Alma, and what better way to destroy a monster than with another monster?"

Kakuzawa switched off the speaker and grabbed the container, raising it above his head like it was a sacred gift from the heavens. There would be no going back after this, he knew that. Or rather, he felt that. There was no more time for dithering or second guesses. It was do or die, and Alma had to die. He pressed down on the release button of the container, and opened the hatch.

And immediately succumbed to an absolute sensory overload, screaming with enough force to tear his throat.